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Don’t scare the horses

We should have known. We should have recognised the omens. There had been so many. Floods, storms, drought, famine, plague. Death and destruction. Not by the gods but by the hands of men. Men hungry for power, raising armies, setting fire to the fields and the forests, making gardens into graveyards, turning homes to dust.

Until, at last, they came.

The horses, messengers of the gods. Speaking not with words, but with the drumming of their hooves. Pounding, thudding, untiring, unceasing. On and on, across the city, from west to east, racing against time, racing against the setting sun.

Hark to the beat of the galloping hooves! See the blood that stains the breast of the pure white riderless horse! When the horses stop will the sun still rise? Will their silent voices ever be heard?

Previous Posts

Winter Songs 6

Winter left a note behind A note without words Just an empty page with the Signature of birds

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Winter Songs 5

Winter’s words are cold but clear Their meaning rings true Winter writes on field and sky A page torn in two

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Winter Songs 4

Winter doesn’t waste its breath Or give much away Winter’s world is black and white Nothing more to say

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Winter Songs 3

Winter's world lies underground Winter’s thoughts run deep Thinking but keeping its thoughts to itself In its wintry sleep

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Winter Songs 2

Summer’s truth has been denied Autumn’s mystery laid bare Fire and air no longer feed The furnace of the dying year

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Winter Songs 1

Day dawns like an ebb tide On the horizon’s distant shore Summer’s gone and harvest’s home And all that’s left is winter’s store

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A poem

THE WRECK OF THE PIGEON days and nights of high wind driven at high tide across the garden strait into the brick walls of ancient privies the land-locked bird drops stunned breathless sinks lifeless lies washed up on dry land early in the morning through the bedroom...

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